


Things Were Different

by asocialconstruct



Series: Basic [3]
Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied Underage, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Racism, Victim Blaming, discussion of off-screen child molestation, implied prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-21 02:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asocialconstruct/pseuds/asocialconstruct
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Encke POV of Cain/Encke pre-series AU.  Will eventually be Encke/Keeler.  Strong warnings, mind the tags.  No violence or noncon on-screen, but extensive discussion of off-screen events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set during [Basic](http://archiveofourown.org/series/25838); first chapter is set between [Ch 5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/518195/chapters/937605) and [Ch6](http://archiveofourown.org/works/518195/chapters/942804) of [Before.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/518195/chapters/915265)

“What you want to be introduced as?” James asked, shutting the car door in Aunt Morgan’s driveway.

Fifty frowned across the roof of the car at him.  “Fuck, I don’t know, tell her whatever you want,” he said, scowling down at the pavement and shouldering his duffel.

James rounded the car and scuffed Fifty’s hair.  Always taking everything so fucking seriously.  “You want me to just tell her Fifty’s your real name?” he said, just to tease Fifty, even though he was somewhere in the thirties now, bouncing numbers too fast to keep track of.

Fifty pushed him away, still frowning at the ground.  “Fuck you.  It’s Sacha,” he mumbled, then glanced up at James defiantly, squaring his jaw.  Flushed a little, gearing for a fight.  “It’s not a girl’s name.”

James just laughed at him and pulled him to the house, so Morgan could fuss over him and how skinny he was and how serious and handsome he was.  Kissed him quick before the front door opened, just to make Fifty blush brighter.

* * *

“Wanna take a shower before dinner?” James asked, throwing Fifty’s shit up on the top bunk after.  Tiny room, meant for four little boys in two bunk beds, but Aunt Morgan had cleared them all out for the weekend so the big boys could have a room to themselves for a couple days.  The boys wouldn’t mind, having a slumber party for the weekend camped out on the living room floor.

“I’m good, took a shower before we left,” Fifty said, pulling his duffel down with a little frown.  He glanced around the little room, looking for somewhere to unpack and refold his clothes.  Fussy little shit, had to fix his hair every time after they fucked and make sure none of his clothes had gotten wrinkled in the duffel.

James watched him push the duffel back up and stand on the rungs of the ladder, so he could open it up on the top bunk and unfold his clothes onto the mattress up there.

“Didn’t ask if you needed it, baby, asked if you _wanted_ to take a shower,” James said, hooking an arm around Fifty’s skinny waist and pressing against him.

Fifty twisted against him, trying to pull away, but James kept him pinned on the ladder, grabbing Fifty’s skinny ass.  “Your foster mom’s downstairs, you want to get kicked out?” Fifty hissed, glancing at the door.

James just laughed, mouthing the veins of Sacha’s neck, kissing his thready pulse, always too jumpy and high strung.  “The fuck would she care?  She’s known I fuck guys since I landed here, why you think she gave us a room to ourselves?  Come on, kids won’t be home from school til four, we got an hour if you quit bitching,” James said, untucking Fifty’s shirt and running his fingers over the warm skin of his belly.

Fifty twisted again, though, turning to stand backwards on the ladder and lean away from him as much as he could, watching him warily.  “She really doesn’t care who you fuck?  You never got kicked out of anywhere?”

“Nah, baby, what you so worried about?” James said, trying to lean in to kiss Fifty’s neck and calm him down, but Fifty just twisted away from him, frowning.  

“Last couple foster homes kicked Tasha and me out, said they wouldn’t take fags.”  Fifty shrugged, ducking his head, not saying something.  “So we took off as soon as Tasha turned eighteen.”

“What were you, like thirteen?” James asked, trying to remember how old Fifty had said his sister was.  “How the fuck’d you get by?”

Fifty took a couple of slow breaths, avoiding something.  “She got a job cleaning at a hotel, when there was work, and I—”  Fifty cut himself off, just shrugged.

“You sucked cock for money,” James said, not managing to keep the disgust out of his voice, finally realizing why Fifty was so good at giving head.

Fifty wouldn’t look him in the eye.  “Or for someplace to sleep that wasn’t the homeless shelter,” he said, like that made it any better.  “I just—things were bad, I just—sometimes money was tight and I couldn’t get a job.”  Fifty licked his lips, looking down and leaning away.  “Didn’t want to go back to foster care and get the shit beaten out of me or sent to therapy for not wanting to fuck girls, it was the only way to stay out of foster care.  Thought they were all like that.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, why didn’t you tell your fucking social worker?”  James’ social worker Rita would never have fucking stood for that, had raised hell the one time his drunk uncle had tried to get custody of him after Morgan’s adoption papers went through.  Rita would never have fucking stood for her kids getting sent to straight therapy or kicked out.

Fifty just shrugged, hunching his shoulders, looking like a kicked dog.  “Didn’t believe us.  Social worker told Tasha she was crazy when the fucker at one place felt her up, said we were just trying to game the system.  Said if we quit fucking up at school then he’d be able to find us a foster family that’d take us, but no one wanted gypsy trash.  Said he was sick of having us lie to his face about good families.  Quit trying after the third time.”

He looked Fifty up and down, head down and not meeting his eye like when he was trying to hide something.  Fifty never told the whole truth unless someone made him, lying out of both sides of his mouth when he could and only telling half truths when he thought he’d get caught.  

“Did you lie about it?” James asked slowly, because everyone had heard about how fucking crazy gypsies were and the couple of tsygan kids Morgan had taken once had been completely fucked in the head.

“The fuck do you think?” Fifty snapped, pushing away from him then, shoving James away to get off the ladder of the bunkbed.  He scrubbed a hand through his hair, turning his back with his shoulders still hunched, waiting to get slapped around.

“Well fucking excuse me, baby, it just doesn’t make any goddamn sense that he wouldn’t believe you if he didn’t have a good goddamn reason, that’s not what social workers are supposed do,” James said.

Fifty just started yanking his shirt off with shaking hands, still looking at the floor, face turned away.  “Yeah, it was all a fucking lie, we fucking made all of it up to get out of foster care because homeless shelters were so much fucking better.  Were you gonna fuck me or just stand there talking all night?” Fifty demanded, throwing his shirt to crumple in the corner, kicking his boots away.  Stood there with his head down and back turned, fumbling with his fly.

“Calm the fuck down, I was only asking.”  James watched his back, wondering how much fucked up bullshit he’d gotten himself into when he’d only thought that first night was going to be a quick fuck and knocking some sense into the crazy little shit.  “Any of it true?” he tried, wanting to believe Fifty if he needed it.

Fifty took a deep breath, his shoulders hunched.  Took a couple of deep breaths.  “Just forget it, it’s all just a fucking sob story.  None of it’s true,” he said finally.

James pulled Fifty against his chest, stroking the back of his neck until Fifty eased into it just a little, still stiff but not shaking so bad.  “Just be fucking honest with people, Fifty, you don’t have to fucking do this.  Come on, let’s take a shower and calm you down.”

Fifty let himself be led to the bathroom, glancing down the stairs nervously until James shoved him in and shut the door, locking it behind them in case it made Fifty feel any better about getting caught, not that Morgan would ever fucking care.  Especially not with this one, smitten with the pictures he’d sent from that last leave, fawning over Fifty more than she had over any of the other skinny assed boys James brought home to meet her.

He didn’t say a goddamn thing, letting himself be pushed into the shower and dropping to his knees before James could stop him, getting him hard and swallowing him fast.  Fifty knew exactly what he was doing, good at this even if he’d been a virgin the first night.

Fifty flicked his tongue, making James’ knees go weak even if he didn’t want to think about where Fifty had learned to do it, didn’t want to think about him down on his knees for rent money or a place to stay.  Didn’t want to think about that Fifty was down on his knees for the same fucking reason right then, to have someone watch his back and keep him from getting fucked by every asshole meaner than him in the squad.

Better to lean back against the wall and let Fifty use his pretty mouth like it was his own idea, since James did better by him than that asshole Six or anyone else would have done by him.  Just because it had started out as a deal that first night didn’t mean James was anything like those other fuckers.  He did the best by Fifty he could.  

Fifty swallowed as he came, mouth like an angel and eyes like a whore, watching him come and starting to stroke himself still kneeling.  

James pulled him up, pushing Fifty’s hand away and starting to jerk him hard and fast, the way Fifty liked it.  Or at least the way that made Fifty come hardest and moan loudest, James never could tell what he liked, always shutting down when things got too personal.

“Could you—just once, could you—“ Fifty panted, clinging to him, biting his lip.

James leaned in to bite his ear, pressing Fifty against the cold wall and stroking him harder.  Fifty leaned his forehead against James’ shoulder, desperately trying to hold himself up as he got closer.  “You want me to suck your cock, baby?” he asked, trying not to laugh when Fifty moaned through his teeth and nodded his head against James’ shoulder.  Getting bolder, but still begging like a blushing virgin.

He kissed Fifty’s neck just below his new earring, flicking it just a little to make Fifty hiss, since the crazy little fuck got off on pain.  He’d promised to take Fifty out to do it next leave, but the little shit had been too impatient, got it done with a hot needle by that fuckup Thirty-six instead of waiting like he was told.  “I don’t really do that, baby, but the second you get in the top ten I’ll show you a good time, how about that?” James said.  Once or twice fucking around in high school had been enough to know he didn’t like the taste of it, didn’t need to try it again to know that.

Fifty moaned, pressing his mouth to James’ shoulder and trying to bite a dark bruise.  James dug his fingers into Fifty’s skinny ass, rolling the tip of Fifty’s cock under his palm and jerking him in short sharp strokes, getting hard again with watching how bad Fifty wanted it.  

Tried not to feel too guilty about making a promise he’d never have to keep, since Fifty would never make it out of the bottom half anyway, not with the sergeant out for him since the first day.  Two would find some way to knock him back to the bottom, even if it was looking more likely that Fifty would claw his way into the top half, hitting Thirty-two or three right before they’d left for the weekend.  Two wouldn’t let it happen, and like fuck James was going to pick a fight with the sergeant over a skinny piece of ass.

But Fifty knew that just as well as James did, so it wasn’t exactly a lie.

Fifty came hard into his hand, and James could have fucked him then against the wall with how hard it made him having Fifty cling to him shaky kneed from just a good handjob, but Fifty moaned sleepily, worn out from all the goddamn laps they’d run in the last week.  James hauled him out of the shower and toweled him off, kissing little beads of water off his collar bone as Fifty caught his breath, fawning after him as James pulled him back to the bedroom.

James pulled on pajama bottoms and threw himself down on the bottom bunk, letting his back pop.  Good long weekend of leave with real food, hot showers and a couple of quick fucks were everything he could have asked for, last chance for leave before the end of basic and getting shipped out.  

One last good time with Fifty before things got serious, the last couple of weeks when everyone’s final rankings got sorted and set where they’d get stationed out to.  With Fifty at the bottom and him at the top, they’d get stationed out and never see each other again.  Should never have brought Fifty home to meet Morgan so she wouldn’t have to fret over whatever happened to him, but it’d be a good weekend anyway.

Fifty stood there in the middle of the little room, looking back and forth between him and the other beds.  James propped his head up a little to look at him.

“What’s the problem, baby?”

Fifty glanced up at the bunk bed where James had thrown his shit.  “Where’m I sleeping?” he asked, and asking about more than that, James could hear it.  Should never have brought him home, just made everything more complicated than it had to be.  Should have just let things stay a simple deal between them and left it at a quick fuck like it had been that first night.  Just should have let Fifty do what he was good at instead of getting pulled into all his bullshit with his fucked up family.

“Where ever you want, baby, pick where you want,” James said, laying back and closing his eyes.  No point in making Fifty feel like he had to put out all weekend if all he wanted to do was sleep.

The narrow bed dipped as Fifty crawled in next to him, pressed to the edge of the bed and curled in on himself like he expected to be told to get out.  James pushed himself to the wall to make more room and threw an arm over Fifty, pulling him closer.  James rubbed little circles with his thumb on Fifty’s back until the tension eased out of him and they both started to drift.

“James?  Sacha?”  Aunt Morgan yelled up the stairs.  “If you boys want beer with dinner you’ll have to run down to the liquor store, I forgot to pick it up.  Dinner’s at six.”

James smoothed Fifty’s damp hair down, watching him scowl in his sleep, wondering when everything had gotten so fucking complicated.


	2. Chapter 2

“Amen.”

“James, pass the—“

“Eli, get your elbows off the table—“

“He’s not staying on his side!”

“Why’d you have to put _beans_ in it?”

“At school today Maggie said—“

“Who wants more?”

“I want pie.”

“You get pie when you finish what’s on your plate.  James, help Sean with—“ 

Fifty hunched over his plate, eyes down and one hand on the table curled around his plate, worse than he was in mess where you had to keep an eye out for the guy next to you or get your dinner roll swiped.  James juggled helping the little ones nearest to him with their dinner, keeping half an eye on Fifty next to him, on edge in the crowded kitchen.  

Morgan caught his eye and raised an eyebrow at Fifty, not looking at anybody and trying to lean towards James without looking like he was doing it.  James let him eat in peace, too busy anyway with trying not to get noodles dumped in his lap until the kitchen started to clear out, the little ones excusing themselves til pie came out.

He nudged Fifty with his elbow, finally getting to his own dinner with Fifty pushing a last couple noodles around his plate, trying to look like he was still eating even though he’d finished before everyone else, bolting his dinner fast like he was afraid someone was going to take it away from him.  “You ok, Fifty?  You still hungry?” James asked.

Fifty finally glanced up at him then, hungry and scared, for fuck knew what reason, and glanced down at his plate again.  “‘M fine,” he lied.

Morgan caught it all, never missed a thing.  “Baby, you can have more,” she said.  “There’s a second pot on the stove, plenty with leftovers to spare.  Didn’t nobody ever let you eat til you were full?”  Fifty flushed guiltily, glancing down like it was his fucking fault he’d had a shitty childhood.  “Oh baby, no wonder you’re so skinny,” Morgan said, getting up to press a kiss to the top of his head, making him blush brighter.  

James squeezed his knee under the table.

“What you thinking about doing after the war, baby?” Morgan asked, changing the subject, sweet like that with how uncomfortable Fifty looked.  “The news says it’s supposed to be winding down, you thinking about going to school for anything?” Her favorite thing to needle about.  _Baby you should get your degree.  Make your momma proud.  Go to school and make something of yourself, so you can help people who need it._

“Never thought about it.  Ma’am,” Fifty said, and James could tell that was a goddamn lie without having to see his surly look.  

He reached over and scuffed Fifty’s hair.  “You’re such a fucking liar.  What the fuck was all that the other night about officer training and all that bullshit hero talk?”

“ _James_.  Watch your language, you weren’t raised in a barn,” Morgan snapped, glaring from the stove where she was dishing up Fifty’s plate again.

“Yes ma’am.”  He sat up a little straighter but smirked at Fifty’s uncomfortable look.  Elbowed him in the side when Fifty wouldn’t say anything.

“Thinking about officer training,” Fifty said finally, mumbling to his beer.  “Gonna go career and make a difference, help win the war,” he said.  Sat up a straighter when Morgan glanced back at him with a smile.  “Do peacekeeping after, rebuilding the colonies and all that.  If I can get in—if I can get in the top ten, and then in officer training.  If they let me,” Fifty finished, glancing sideways at James.

Morgan brought his plate back, giving him another kiss on the top of the head.  “I’m sure you’ll make it in, baby,” she said.  “The world needs more good-hearted boys trying to make a difference.  Now eat your seconds so you can have pie.”

Fifty stood at the sink washing dishes after, with Sean and Jessi drying, letting them talk his ear off about whatever cartoon they were watching these days.  James watched them through the screen door, sitting on the back step having his cigarette.

“He’s a pretty one,” Morgan said quietly, closing the door behind her as she came out to sit on the step.  James watched her settle with raised eyebrows.  “You been making eyes at him all night, baby, don’t think I can’t tell it’s serious this time, you got to stop picking up strays to bring home.  Just—“ Morgan frowned, glancing back in the house.

“What?”

“Just—don’t get too attached, baby, you can’t fix all his problems for him.  All you can do is be there to help and try not to add to his troubles, you hear me?”  She gave him a squeeze, too short now to get her arm all the way around his shoulders like she used to, but still strong.  

He gave her a kiss on the cheek.  “Don’t worry bout me, we’ll be fine,” he said.  She gave him a pat on the cheek and got back up.

“Sacha, you get away from those dishes, don’t need guests doing dishes in this house with all these layabouts afoot.  Get out and go have a sit, baby,” she said, chasing Sacha out of the house.  He stood in the door with a stunned look on his face, looking lost until James took his hand and pulled him down to sit on the step.

“You ok?  You been looking like someone’s about to jump you all night,” James said, passing Fifty the pack of cigarettes and the lighter.

“‘M fine,” Fifty lied, fishing out a cigarette.  “Just a little too much like being back in foster care, you know?  Kids’re cute, though.  You should tell your mom I said thanks for dinner.”

James shoved him, just a little.  “Tell her yourself.  You really serious about that officer training bullshit?”  Fifty just grunted, getting his cigarette lit.  “You got a long way left if you’re gonna try for it.  You better watch out for that little shit Thirty, he’s the crazy one that cut up all those assholes who tried to fuck him the first couple of weeks.  Don’t pick a fight with him and get your pretty face cut up, baby.  And officer training is just a bunch of work and babysitting morons like us once you make it.”  

Fifty just smoked in silence for a while, looking out over the little dark yard crowded with toys.  Rolling something over in his head, thinking too hard.  “You think I can make top ten?  Get out stationed with you, maybe?” Fifty asked finally.

James took a deep breath, trying to find the right answer for that one.  He’d thought Fifty knew he didn’t have a chance with Two out for him, but maybe he was dumber or crazier than he looked.

“Nah, fuck it, nevermind, you’re right,” Fifty said when James took too long.  “Forget I said anything, Two’s right.”

James winced.  

_Fuck-up gypsy trash._

_Just another ugly gypsy whore like his mother._

_Waste of goddamn taxpayer money, you ought to do the world a favor and finish what your mother’s coathanger started before I do it for you._

_You got knocked down to Fifty because that’s where you belong_.

James took another deep breath, wondering if it was more fucked up to lie to Fifty about this or more fucked up that a lie was probably the first nice thing anybody’d ever said to him.  “Two won’t fucking like it, but yeah, you can probably make it, baby,” James said finally.  “We’ll get stationed out and then you can tell him where to shove his fucking boots when you make lieutenant.”

Fifty laughed, really fucking laughed the first time James had heard, but cut himself off guiltily, giving James a look sideways like he expected a smack on the back of the head.  James just nudged him with his elbow again, anything to keep Fifty from going all blank and serious again.  Fifty gave him half a lopsided smile, blushing and trying to hide behind his cigarette.

“Boys, come on in and help me get the pie cut,” Morgan called.  “Sacha baby, you want pecan or cherry?  Or both?”  James ground his cigarette out in the bucket of sand next to the door and leaned over to kiss Fifty, threading their fingers together as Fifty sighed against him, relaxing for the first time since they’d met.


	3. Chapter 3

Fifty was a cheap date, drunk off his ass before James was hardly buzzed.  He’d taken Fifty down to the corner bar, the one where they never checked IDs and the old vets bought him a beer once in a while.  Cheap beer, torn seats and a sticky floor, but Fifty finally relaxed, not glancing over his shoulder all the time or looking to pick a fight with anybody.

He was so fucking skinny, all bone and gristle when James swung an arm around his shoulder and brushed his lips against Fifty’s ear to be heard over the low roar of the crowd.  He was so fucking beautiful, pressing against James a little longer than he needed to every time someone elbowed past them, his skinny ass pushed back against James’ crotch and glancing up at him through his hair.

Fifty was a pretty good date, finally gave James some competition in darts, like the little shit had started doing in training, trying to beat James’ record in field stripping a rifle and target shooting, but it gave them something to do while they drank.  And it gave James a reason to stare at Fifty’s skinny ass and the muscles of his back, Fifty finally at ease enough to smirk back when he caught James looking instead of getting surly.  So James pushed him a little more, slid his hand up and down Fifty’s tight thigh when they went back to the bar for another beer, and Fifty leaned into him without blushing this time, watching James’ mouth.

They drank too much, just like always, but it’d be the last fucking chance for it before getting stationed out.  Might as well have a good time at it, and maybe drink just enough to not remember it later.  Easier for both of them that way.  Have a good time on leave, before they went back to camp and everything went back to normal.

When James ended up against the wall with Fifty staring up at him, leaning into him with his fingers looped into James’ front pocket, he finished his beer fast and took Fifty’s away from him.  Shoved him away to lead him back to the bathroom, glancing around as he locked the door behind them.

Fifty was on him before the door was all the way closed, pushing him against the wall and almost standing on his tiptoes to clumsily suck James’ ear.  James grabbed his ass, hauling Fifty against him and grunting with Fifty’s teeth sharp on his neck and how hard it made him.

He didn’t really realize just how drunk Fifty was until the little shit leaned against him, squinting down with one eye closed as he fumbled with James’ fly.  

Too drunk to manage a button, too drunk for sex.  James pushed Fifty’s hands away, ignoring Fifty’s pout.  Took a deep breath and blew it out, ignoring how hard he was.  “Baby, you’re drunk.”

“So?” Fifty demanded, looking pissed and reaching to palm James’ cock through his jeans.  James shoved his hands away.

“So you’re not a whore and I’m not gonna fuck you against the bathroom wall when you’re too drunk to stand up.  Come on, Fifty, let’s go.”

“Buzzkill.”

James laughed and lifted one of Fifty’s arms up over his shoulders, hauling him by the waist to stumble out of there.  “Nah, baby, I’m only kissing your ass now so you can’t write me up once you make lieutenant.  Just remember who your friends were once you get there.”

Fifty squinted at him sideways, looking surly and ready to swing a punch, but didn’t say anything while James paid up their tab, swaying there silent.  “You mean that?” he asked as James shoved him through the crowd.

“Yeah, course you’re gonna make officer,” James said, shouldering Fifty out the door into the cold night, wishing Fifty would just let officer training drop.

“Meant the other thing,” Fifty said quietly, not looking at him.

James had to think about that for a second, trying to figure out what Fifty meant.  “Did I mean we’re friends?  Course we’re friends, baby,” James said finally, steering Fifty around a street lamp.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  Course we are.  C’mon, I know a good diner.  You hungry for pancakes?”

* * *

They stumbled home a little less drunk later, smelling like coffee and fake maple syrup instead of beer after they sat at the diner for a couple hours getting Fifty sobered up.  Little shit pouted for a while about not getting fucked, but James squeezed Fifty’s knee under the table, tracing circles on the the inside of his thigh and Fifty lightened up some.

There was a note and a cardboard box on the kitchen table when they finally kicked off their shoes in the dark, Fifty pressing against James’ back and trying to palm his cock again as he read Morgan’s note.  James shoved Fifty away again, telling him to go up to bed as James opened the box.  

_Can’t let him eat breakfast in his uniform, pick out some pajamas that’ll fit him._   Morgan was too soft-hearted, babying Fifty every chance she got and coddling him when all she got back was his hunched shoulders and surly looks.  But then she would never have been a good foster mother if she hadn’t been soft-hearted, and Fifty looked like he needed some coddling.

James rustled around in the box of clothes waiting for someone to grow into them, finally found an old set of pajamas from when he’d been fourteen or so, blue and faded at the knees.  Fifty would have to roll the cuffs up three times to keep from tripping over them, but it’d do for the weekend.

He tried not to feel too guilty about it when he brought them up and watched Fifty change, all lean muscle and skinny legs.  Wasn’t James’ fault he’d laughed along with everyone else when the sergeant picked some skinny gypsy kid out of inspection the first morning to make an example of, Two ripping the front of the little shit’s threadbare shirt and throwing him down in the mud to do pushups with a foot on his back, lecturing everybody else about keeping their damn mouths shut and following orders.  

No way of knowing then that Fifty didn’t have a mother for Two to scream at him about, or any civilian clothes besides what Two tore off his back and ground his muddy boot into.  So it wasn’t like James had any way of knowing what a huge asshole he must have looked like laughing along with everyone else.  Not his fault.  He’d done the best he could by Fifty since then.

Fifty pulled the drawstring tight, pulling it almost all the way drawn to keep it from falling down his skinny ass.

“C’mere, baby,” James said, pulling Fifty down to lay next to him, the drunk little shit curled against his back and asleep before James even had the blanket pulled up.  He put a hand on Fifty’s warm thigh, falling asleep himself with Fifty’s nose pressed against his back.

* * *

It was the middle of the damn night when he woke up later, stiff from sleeping cramped in the narrow little bed and rock hard from Fifty’s teasing earlier.  He listened for a minute to Fifty’s slow breathing, wondering if it was worth the trouble of waking him up to see if he’d sobered up any.

Finally decided it was, only one more night left for a good slow fuck before they had to go back to camp, and the little shit had been so damn horny earlier.  No reason not to take advantage of it if Fifty was sobered up enough that it wouldn’t be taking advantage.  “You awake, baby?”  James rolled over and pulled Fifty back against him, his cock throbbing harder with Fifty’s skinny ass pressed into him.

“It’s the middle of the fucking night,” Fifty bitched, but he didn’t pull away, and best of all, he was awake and he didn’t protest when James undid the knot of his pajamas and started shoving them down, Fifty shimmying out of them as James pushed out of his own boxers.  Fifty almost fell out of bed with both of them thrashing around trying to get out of their clothes in the little bed, but James yanked him back, pulling Fifty back to straddle him.  

He reached up to comb his fingers through Fifty’s messy hair, Fifty licking his lips and watching James’ mouth until James finally pulled him down to kiss.  James fumbled the bottle of lube out from under his pillow as Fifty took control, always surprising James with how bad he needed to kiss, aggressive and pushy until James pressed slicked fingers into him.  Fifty sighed as James took his time, rocking Fifty against his chest and fucking him good and slow, spreading him open with Fifty’s cock rubbing hot against his.  Fifty bit his shoulder, trying to keep down a moan in the quiet dark, rolling his hips back.

Fifty decided when he’d had enough, shrugging James’ hand away as he sat up.  James curled his fingers around Fifty’s thighs as Fifty stroked him a couple times, being a tease, thumbing the tip of his cock.  James just let him tease, let Fifty lube up his cock and decide when he was ready, stroking faster and watching James’ mouth.

He sighed when Fifty finally eased himself up and back down, smooth and hot and tight, leaning down to kiss for just a second when James put his hand on the back of Fifty’s neck.  Fifty was a good fuck once he got over being scared, aggressive and begging for it hard.

He was fucking gorgeous in the warm light off the street lamp, one hand on James’ chest to keep his balance and one hand on his own cock, biting his lip to keep from making any noise.  He took sharp breaths through his nose, eyes squeezed shut, and James promised himself that if Fifty did manage to make it stationed out with the top ten, he’d find somewhere good and quiet and see what noises he could get Fifty to make.

Fifty pulled back, twisting so he could throw a leg to James’ other side, turning backwards with James’ cock still buried in him.  He arranged himself straddling James backwards, giving him a sly look over his shoulder as Fifty grabbed James’ knees and started to rock again.  Fifty did all the fucking, making the bed squeak with James too distracted watching his cock slide in and out of Fifty’s sweet skinny ass.  He put a hand on Fifty’s thigh, just to feel his muscles move, and watched the muscles of Fifty’s arms move as he kept his balance and stroked himself.

Fifty paused just long enough to get the lube again, slicking his hand to stroke himself better, and James ran his hands over Fifty’s back and the tight muscles of his neck.  He was so fucking close, knees pulled up and Fifty fucking himself faster, breathing sharply, a little moan escaping him when James gave his ass a light slap.  Fifty leaned heavily against James’ bent knees, reaching down to tug his balls and stroke, light at first and a little harder when James hissed and dug his fingers into Fifty’s hard thighs.  

“Fuck, harder, baby,” James whispered, and tried to bite back his own moan when Fifty did what he was told, tugging hard and grinding into him.

Fifty was getting bolder every time they fucked, begging and needy and demanding, everything James had ever wanted in a fuck, sweet and perfect and skinny but not breakable.  He gasped as Fifty reached further down, stroking the soft skin behind his balls, making him shudder with the teasing.

And then before he knew it, Fifty pressed a lubed finger into him and he came hard, hands tightening on Fifty’s waist and so fucking angry he couldn’t think straight.

He shoved Fifty off, flipping the little shit onto his back and pressing him to the mattress, pinning him in place with a hand on his heaving chest.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that again, you hear me?” James snarled in his face, fucking pissed that he even had to say it.  Fifty stared at him, frozen and terrified, as much as Fifty ever showed what he was thinking.  “Just because I don’t beat the shit out of you like Six doesn’t mean you’re ever gonna do the fucking.  You do what I fucking tell you and that’s all, you get me?”  Fifty didn’t say anything, just stared.  “I said, do you _fucking understand_?”

Fifty nodded tightly, so tense James could feel him shaking, probably wondering how bad he was going to get the shit beaten out of him when they got back, and for good fucking reason.  James made a disgusted noise, pissed off that Fifty was still so fucking afraid of him and more pissed off that he had to keep the little shit afraid of him to keep him in line.  

He shoved Fifty over to lie on his belly, ignoring that Fifty had gone soft and not gotten off.  He hooked his leg over Fifty’s knee to show he wasn’t that mad.  Pissed, but he wasn’t going to get rid of Fifty just for that.  Didn’t need to tell Fifty that, though, better to keep him scared and needy than thinking he could get away with everything.  Fifty shivered and didn’t say anything, letting James throw an arm over his back and laying there quiet.

Neither of them said anything about it in the morning, when James woke up to an empty bed.  Fifty curled tight into the corner of the top bunk of the other bed, back pressed to the wall and looking like he hadn’t slept at all.  James just gave him a look and jerked his head for Fifty to get dressed.  No sense in apologizing; they had one more night of leave and then everything would be back to normal, back to where they both knew the rules and things weren’t so fucking complicated with pretending this was anything more than what it had been that first night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The image of Cain wearing Encke's old pajamas when they're on leave is from TJ's [Wading Deep Waters](http://archiveofourown.org/works/621509/chapters/1121696), which is sort of an AU future of Basic.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter runs concurrent with [chapter six of Before](http://archiveofourown.org/works/518195/chapters/942804). This begins at the same point in time that that chapter starts, but this chapter ends right before the dialogue scene in that one. Hope that's not too confusing!

“Have a good leave, Eight?” Six asked too casually while they sat around after drill one afternoon, shooting the shit and watching the high numbers scramble around camp, Two barking out orders.

Only a couple days back and things were back to normal, Fifty just as enthusiastic on his knees as he’d always been, even though he’d been quiet and scared that last day, even though James didn’t see him quite as often as before.  Fifty said he was just on heavier KP rotation, even though James hadn’t heard about it from Two or anybody else.  But Fifty showed up evenings looking exhausted and sore, so James didn’t push him on it, tried to be sympathetic and not feel too guilty that he’d gotten Fifty in deeper shit with Two by pulling him out for another leave.

“Pretty good,” James shrugged.  No reason to give Six anything personal, even if he had to keep giving him cigarettes to keep him away from Fifty.  

It was all just a game, push and push back, see who gave first and who couldn’t keep his calm.  They’d settled out their positions the first week and now it was all dancing around trying to get someone else to snap first, making like they were all good friends when everyone knew they’d stab each other in the throat if they got the chance.  The only black man to make it past Fifteen, James knew if he made the first move the others would all be on him at once even if they hated each other, looking for any hint of blood in the water.

Fifty jogged past then, hauling a bag of potatoes over one shoulder almost bigger than he was, the camp cook hollering down the parade ground for him to hurry up.  Seven and Twelve whistled and catcalled after him, Fifty throwing them a dirty look over one shoulder.  Kept moving, thank god, dangerous enough for him to get attention from these assholes as it was, nevermind getting caught with a group of them and giving them an excuse to beat the shit out of him when James couldn’t do a damn thing about it, not against all of them, not and get himself out of basic alive.

Nine nudged James, watching Fifty hungrily.  “Bet he’s a good fuck, skinny little ass like that.”  James just laughed and shrugged, no reason to talk it up when everybody was already looking for him to fuck up, pissed that he’d let Fifty move up so fast, jostling everybody.  Not with all the low numbers getting sick of the deals they’d made in the early weeks, bored and restless and looking for someone else to fuck, looking for ways to piss on each others’ boots without coming out and starting a fight.

“Not like he doesn’t get enough practice,” Six said, quiet, casual.  Just making conversation.

James clenched his hands on his knees.  He should have just fucking taken Six out in the first week, but now their final numbers were all but settled, and if he made a move now and lost, he’d be fucked over when they were stationed out together where Six could get him with friendly fire.  “The fuck does that mean?” James said slowly.

“Think you know what it means, Eight, or you too busy licking his pussy to think about it?  Must taste pretty good after everybody else’s had their turn fucking him.”

James ground his jaw.  

It was all just bullshit, just trying to get a rise out of him and make him beat the shit out of Fifty himself so the rest of the low numbers wouldn’t have to take care of Fifty themselves and risk pissing off James too.  Fifty knew better than to fuck around behind his back.  Even if he’d been a whore, even if he was still a whore, Fifty knew better than that.  _Things were bad, didn’t want to get the shit beaten out of me._   Fifty was a dumb little shit, but he knew what his own self interest was, even if James had to remind him of it once in a while. 

So James just shrugged it off, making like Six had just told a good joke and they were just shooting the shit, when it was anything but.  “Wouldn’t know, but I hear Forty has a good time licking yours,” James said evenly.

Six laughed, fake and hollow, turning the conversation to bragging what a good little slut Forty was, watching James out of the corner of his eye, sizing him up.  James just looked back, thinking about who else he’d have to beat the shit out of to show Six not to fuck with him, thinking about all the times Fifty had shied away from him since they’d gotten back, sneaking around and avoiding him.

* * *

He went to sit with Fifty in the crowded barracks a couple nights later, sending Thirty-Six running out of his spot on Fifty’s bunk with a look.  Fifty looked up at him as he sat, half hopeful and half scared.  James had been sitting on the other end of the barracks with the low numbers, watching Fifty and Thirty-Six talk, turning over in his head how to do this, how to catch Fifty out in a lie if it was true.  

No reason to listen to every goddamn thing Six and Nine and Twelve tried to tell him, pushing his buttons, playing games with him, hinting about Fifty getting on his knees for anybody and everybody, no reason to not give Fifty the benefit of the doubt and let him explain it if it wasn’t true.  But no reason not to worry about it either, Fifty sneaking around with more and more bullshit excuses about being on KP longer hours when James had checked up on him and knew it wasn’t true, trying to avoid him and pretend he was too exhausted for a quick fuck, trying to get out of his end of the deal.

Decided to just lay it out, be honest with Fifty and see how far that got them.  Fifty watched him sideways, elbows on his knees and hands together, just waiting for James to say something.  Shoulders a little hunched like he knew what was coming.

He squeezed Fifty’s knee, a little threat and a little promise, and said it.  Quiet, so it wouldn’t carry over the low noise of everyone else talking in the crowded barracks.  “Fifty.  If you’re fucking around on me, you’re on your own.”

Fifty took slow breaths, leaning away from him.  “‘M not fucking anyone,” he said, surly and on the edge of defiance, glancing up and back down.  Hiding something, just like always, but whether he was trying to hide a lie or just trying to hide being scared, James couldn’t tell.

“Then quit with avoiding me.  Because I tell you what, Fifty,” James said, grabbing Fifty to haul him closer, his hand on the back of Fifty’s neck so the little shit would know he was serious.  “If I find out you been fucking around behind my back, I’ll beat the shit out of you myself for making me look like a fucking moron.  You get me?”

Fifty glared up at him, grinding his jaw, and James tightened his grip on Fifty’s neck, waiting for the crazy little fuck to try taking a swing at him.  Fifty might get one punch in, if he was lucky and fast, but Fifty had never been either, and James knew exactly what all his weak spots were.  Even if Fifty managed to land a punch on him, it would only be one and then Fifty would be in the fucking hospital.

They stared at each other, but Fifty looked away first.  “Never wanted to fuck anybody but you,” he said finally, looking down at the floor, and James almost believed it was true.

“Then you better make sure it stays that way,” James said, and thought for a second about saying something else to apologize for letting Six get him so suspicious.  

Until Fifty glanced up and James caught a flash of something—resentment, maybe, or just plain fucking hatred—and thought better of it.  He didn’t have to apologize to Fifty for any goddamn thing, not with all the hassle of doing the little shit the favor of keeping him from getting his ass kicked every fucking day.  He shoved Fifty just a little as he got up, feeling the little shit’s eyes on his back as he stepped out for a smoke with Six.

* * *

“The fuck happened to you?” James demanded after lunch a couple days later as Fifty eased himself down to sit gingerly, wincing.  

His lip was mashed open, one eye starting to swell shut.  Crazy little shit had probably finally gotten it from Two, got the shit beaten out of him for mouthing off one too many times.  Twenty-seven or eight, somewhere in there, picking two or three fights a day like he thought he was ever going to make it anywhere.  Getting vicious and desperate, fighting dirty and pissing everyone off with upsetting the rankings.  There were fucking rules, and as many times as James had tried to beat that into Fifty, the little shit didn’t listen.  

“Nothing, just a fight,” Fifty said, sounding hoarse like someone had gotten him across the throat.

“You watch for over balancing like I told you?” James teased, elbowing Fifty in the side, making him hiss and wince.  Bad fucking news, bruised or even broken ribs if Fifty had really shitty luck.

“Yeah, he just . . . got me good this time,” Fifty said, hunching and glancing over his shoulder as Twenty came in laughing with Eighteen, laughing harder when they saw Fifty huddled next to James.

“Don’t worry about it, baby, I’ll take care of him,” James said, squeezing Fifty’s knee under the table.

“No, I’ll—“ Fifty winced, twisting to look for Twenty.  “I’ll deal with it, I can take care of myself.”

James shook his head, tightening his grip on Fifty’s knee.  This he could do, send Twenty to the hospital for fucking with Fifty, and send a message to Six that he wasn’t going to be fucked with either.  See what kind of hints Six and the rest of those assholes dropped then, after they saw Twenty walking around with a couple less teeth and a good limp for laying hands on on Fifty.  “Sure you can, baby, but what the fuck good am I if I don’t watch your back?” James said.  “Everybody’ll think I’m going soft, so shut the fuck up and let me do you a favor.”  

Fifty leaned heavily on one arm, head down so he could look at the table and not meet James’ eye.  Just nodded, not saying something, guilty over needing help or getting the shit kicked out of him.

James frowned at him, trying to find something to say to make it better.  “How much longer before you’re on KP again?”

“Couple hours,” Fifty said, flat.  Brought one hand up to rub the back of his head, glancing sideways at James through his hair, trying to hide in plain sight.

“Plenty of time for a fuck, then.  Come on, baby, I’ll take your mind off it, show you something nice,” James said, getting up, but Fifty stayed sitting, holding his side.  “The fuck is wrong with you?  I said come on.”

“I just—need a couple minutes.  Just need to catch my breath,” Fifty said, not looking at him.

“You need to get to medical?”

Fifty shook his head too fast, hunching his shoulders.  “No.”

“Then walk it off and quit your bitching, he didn’t get you that bad if you don’t need a medic.  I’ll take it easy on you.  Now get the fuck up before I whoop you myself so everyone remembers who’s in charge,” James said, watching Six and Nine and Twelve watch them across the cafeteria, hungry and waiting for him to slip up just once, to show he was slipping up and going soft hearted, looking for a hint of blood in the water.

Fifty picked himself up then, finally, and let himself be pushed out of mess.  James went easy on him when they found a quiet corner, letting Fifty lay on his back and going slow, giving him room to breath, Fifty closing his eyes while they fucked.

James didn’t think about it until later, the middle of the night, when he woke up to someone was crying in the dark.  Just like every other night, someone’s hushed little breaths trying not to be heard in the barracks with their whole squadron.  He tried to roll over and go back to sleep, ignoring it the way he ignored it every night when somebody was homesick or just too fucking weak to take it anymore.  Mostly ignored it until it stopped and he finally realized it’d been coming from Fifty’s bunk.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter runs concurrent with [chapter 7 of Before](http://archiveofourown.org/works/518195/chapters/946005) and [Nothing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/500403).

He should never have fucked the little shit.

Morgan would have been ashamed of him if she knew any of it, and when she waved at Fifty and his sister at graduation, James tugged her away and wouldn’t explain what had happened, sure he could see Six’s blood on the little shit’s boots.  Fifty had always been meticulous, never missed a fucking thing, never had a hair out of place or a stray wrinkle in his fatigues.  In his dress uniform, with Thirty just behind him, James was sure Fifty had left just a trace of Six’s blood on his boots to remind everyone, especially James, how he’d managed to get out of basic at the top.  

He could practically smell it on Fifty when they stood at attention all but shoulder to shoulder that last inspection before being shipped out, lined up with Fifty and Thirty on one side of him, the new Nine and Ten to the other, who had been the old Seven and Twelve, glancing at James and past James, planning out how to take out him or Fifty or Thirty and it didn’t fucking matter because as a squad they’d all try to take each other out with friendly fire as soon as they were finally stationed together.

Thank fuck One had the good sense to have them assigned separately, breaking up the top ten and scattering them all to different units.  It hardly ever happened and it’d be in his file forever— _poor unit cohesion, trained in a squad with anti-social tendencies, poor candidate for promotion_ —but at least he was stationed out alone, without any of the other backstabbers, where he didn’t have to think about all the promises he’d made to Fifty and all the fucking lies Fifty had told him.

* * *

Fifty went up from Twenty-five fast, too fast, faster than he’d jumped any other ranks, and James let him climb up, half hoping Fifty would piss off someone dangerous and either get put in his place or come crawling back for protection.  But Fifty was fucking prideful and didn’t ask for help, just won his own fights against assholes twice his size by jumping them at night, when it didn’t matter if he wasn’t fast or strong, because he was sneaky and mean, which worked so long as he managed to avoid letting anyone else catch him first. 

They still fucked, of course, otherwise there was no way to keep Fifty safe from Six and Nine and Twelve if he wasn’t anybody’s property anymore, but James was out of lube and out of the patience he’d had for Fifty’s bullshit on leave, so it was fast and hard and probably hurt, but Fifty didn’t show it, didn’t say a word anymore.  James didn’t ask where the bruises came from when Fifty showed up with scraped cheeks and split lips, and if he was being honest, he didn’t really fucking care.  No reason to get his ass chewed out again for picking another fight over the ungrateful little shit.  Didn’t care who Fifty was getting bruised up by, since the little shit probably deserved it anyway.

Not until he saw the dark purple fingermarks on Fifty’s ass and thighs one night, then he did care.  

Started to notice the faint redness around his wrists when the little shit slipped back from One’s quarters in the evenings, started to piece together all of Six’s hints and Fifty’s lies.  _Nine’s_ lies, once he was in the top ten, having climbed up on his knees.  

James should have known the little shit couldn’t have gone up so fast without whoring himself out for it, he’d been too much of an optimist believing in Fifty, when he should have known better from the first night.  Fifty had only gotten off the bottom by whoring himself out in the first place.  Must have started putting out for One as soon as they got back from that first leave, and now here was Fifty thinking he could outpace James, just like he’d done in target practice, trying to beat James’ record on everything.

* * *

Fifty started skulking after Thirty, and only fuck knew why, both of them crazy and dangerous.  They went everywhere together, Thirty going up through the rankings too and jostling everyone like Fifty had on his way to Nine, so that James had to punch in some new asshole’s teeth every day just to stay at Eight and not get dragged down past Fifty, breathing down his neck and trying to find a way to jump James too.  

Fifty wouldn’t ever be able to take James out by himself, James knew him too well, knew exactly how to trip him up and make him stumble and make him doubt himself.  James knew Fifty well enough to know the little shit was still scared of him, sticking with Thirty because he was afraid of getting caught and having the shit beaten out of him when James finally got him alone.  

He thought about beating the shit out of Fifty, thought about teaching him a lesson, thought about throwing him back to the bottom where everyone he’d pissed off on the way off could tear him apart before he was shipped back to whatever shithole he’d crawled out of, but he couldn’t do it.  

Even with Fifty and Thirty watching him from across the mess, eyeing him up and planning out how to jump him together, how to move up from Nine and Ten to Six and Seven over his dead body, even then he couldn’t do it.  Even when he had Six and Two smirking at each other over cigarettes he’d bought to keep them away from Fifty, telling him all about what a sweet fuck Fifty had been when he begged them for it, trying to sleep his way to the top, trying to get ahead by bending over for Two like he had been for One all that time, even then James couldn’t make himself find Fifty and beat the shit out of him.  

Because Morgan would have been ashamed of him if she’d known about any of it, ashamed of him for not protecting Fifty better, and as much as James wanted to beat the shit out of Fifty for letting her coddle him and feed him and baby him when they’d been on leave, all he could tell her when she wrote to ask what Sacha wanted for dinner the night after they graduate from basic, was that Fifty had other plans.  Couldn’t explain to her why he didn’t want to talk about it or why she should just forget about the little shit.

But he could tell Fifty how it was going to be, Fifty due to get out of basic as Nine, all of them due to be stationed out together.  And even if James knew in the back of his mind he should have been ashamed of himself for taking advantage of Fifty’s desperation all that time, for shoving him around when Fifty was so much smaller and so scared, he knew Fifty was still afraid of him, and he’d use it to keep Morgan from getting her heart broken over him if he had to.  He went looking for Fifty the week before graduation, one last time to set things straight for graduation and once they were stationed out together.

He left mess one night to look for Fifty but came up short barely out the doors, Thirty following him out and cutting him off.  Thirty stood in his way, barely as high as his chest but giving him a level look, not scared of him at all.

“Get out of my fucking way, Thirty,” James said slowly, not missing the little twitch of fingers as Thirty flicked a knife down from his sleeve.

Thirty had the fucking gall to smile at him, ballsy little fucker, and James would have been lying if he said he wasn’t even a little nervous facing Thirty down.  Six would always have a big fucking scar across his chest where Thirty had gotten him the first couple weeks of basic, and James didn’t much care for the idea of bleeding out from a fight over who got to fuck Fifty.

But Thirty just fucking stood there staring him down, so James took a step towards him, not about to back down from a little shit half his size.  

“He’s not your problem anymore, Eight,” Thirty whispered in that creepy fucking voice, from getting slashed across the throat, or the firebombing, or a gas attack, or fuck knew what, everybody had a different story about him and the little fucker never talked about himself.  “He’s mine now,” Thirty said, and James didn’t miss the way he shifted the knife, ready to prove it, and James wondered how Thirty had proven it to Fifty.  Couldn’t imagine Fifty was so desperate to whore himself out to someone else that he’d let himself be cut, but the crazy little shit had always gotten off on pain.

“Thirty, if you don’t get out of my goddamn way, you’re not gonna live to regret it,” James said, and they both knew it was a bluff.

Thirty fucking smiled at him again, a real smile, bright like James had just told a fucking joke, but Thirty’s eyes were dead behind it and James had to push down a shudder.  Couldn’t help wondering what else Thirty had gotten cut out besides his voice that made him so dead like that.  “It’s not Thirty anymore, Eight,” Thirty whispered.  “It’s Seven.  Six,” he said, pointing the knife at Fifty coming up the parade ground toward them, “and Seven,” he said, pointing back at himself with it.  

“You—“ James started, and cut himself off with a swallow he didn’t mean for Thirty to see.  Only one way for Fifty and Thirty to have moved up past him, and he’d have heard about it from Six himself if there had been a fight.

“Dead,” Thirty whispered with a shrug, like they were talking about the drizzle due to blow in the next morning.  James shivered with more than the chill in the air.

James glanced over his shoulder at Fifty and decided it wasn’t worth it.  He’d never thought Fifty had it in him to kill anybody, but he could believe it, with Thirty’s fucking creepy smile, with the way Fifty and Thirty both had been sizing him up for weeks.  Six dead, and him next.

And even if it made him a fucking coward, he turned and hurried away from Thirty, brushing past Fifty one last time, catching the smell of him when they were as close as they had been on leave, but with the smell of blood under it.  They stepped wide of each other, the last time they saw each other before graduating out of basic, and James thought for the first time Fifty was less afraid of him than he was of Fifty.

He never should have fucked the little shit, but by the time he realized that, it was too late to do anything about it.  He got out of basic and didn’t think about it again, didn’t think about Fifty again, putting it all out of his mind and starting over with his new navigator.  He didn’t think about Fifty at all for a year until he found the photos in the bottom of his duffel, from when they were on leave and things could have worked out different, could have been something besides a deal, and he didn’t think about why he tucked them back safe and took them with him when he was assigned to a new navigator.


End file.
